I, THE KING
By WAY LAND WELLS WILLIAMS.
(Copyrlcht. 1*24.)
h ____ ■_ M i
(Continned From Saturday.)
The pink In front of him vanished,
leaving cloud streaks of cold blue
gray. The sea gave a gleam of wicked
steel and retreated Into the gloom. A
crab scuttled; a tern bleated; out of
the suddenly withdrawn spaces of the
heavens, soft and opaque and color
less, sprang the stars.
CHAPTER VII.
I.
Next morning, as he wandered
about the palm groves with his dic
tionary In one hand and his eyes
raised to the palm fronds in the gen
eral style of little Johnny Head-tn
Air. he came on one of the muddy
pools he had noticed before. By the
side of It squatted Masson, entirely
n ■•' ed, and a native girl (Sadie, no
doubt) was washing his clothes In
the filthy water. Kit reddened and
started to walk away; then turned
again.
"Masson, look here! That's no place
to wash clothes.”
“Ain't it?” said Masson.
“No, and I’ll tell you why. Have
you noticed how many of the nntlves
have got skin diseases? It's awful.
And they wash their clothes In that
pool all the time, and themselves, too.
I've seen them do it. You’ll get that
d'■ -se yourself if you wash your
clothes there.”
“Hell of a lot I care,” growled Mas
son.
’’You'll care when you begin to
Itch. Do you see that scum on the
water there? That's the dry skin
they scrape off themselves. . . . God,
I don't see how you can do It!”
He started to move away, but the
sudden scorn in his voice roused Mas
son. “It’s better’n not washing ’em
at all, I guess. I notice you ain't
washed your things yet. Naw, and
there was a lot o' talk about how you
was goin’ to. yesterday afternoon.”
He winked at Sadie, who giggled; It
was the most odious kind of showing
ofT.
"Shut up!” said Kit, In spite of him
self.
“Ho!” pursued Masson. “That’s
equality, ain’t it? I can’t go any
place on this island without you
come along and tell me to shut up,
•h?”
“I didn't, till you asked for It. Mas
son. can't you ever behave decently?”
"Decent, huh! If you think it’s
decent to come follerin’ round after
me and my girl, and me naked, huh!
Yeah, Mister Newell, there ain’t a
gob in the Navy don’t know enough
to keep off of a guy when he's got his
girl out. Decency! Christ!”
This time Kit simply walked away.
He went to the ocean side of the
Island and washed his uniform as well
as he could. It was nasty and sticky
afterward, but even that was better
than ringworm and yaws. It was
also better than being less clean than
Masson.
Masson was going to he a problem
and a pest, clearly. There was noth
New York
--Day by Day
By o. o. McIntyre.
New York. Nov. 2.—A page from
the diary of a modern Samuel Pepys:
Early up and thither to breakfast
at a charity bazaar where came some
great lords and lovely ladies and a
pale jongleur read some verse which
was very sad.
Thence to a projection room with
Ju'ian Johnson and saw a film run
off and talked awhile with Bebe
D n'e's, a wistful cinema lady. After
ward to walk through the town with
mv wife, poor wretch, and heard a
man cry he had been bitten by a
tarantula.
In the afternoon with Tex Austin
to the garden to see his rodeo and
came also Maybelle Manning, Paul
Reinhardt, Mrs. Burton and some
others and then to Texas Guinan's
party, all very merry.
To a club in the evening to join
some hearty tosspots in a game of
pool, but irked as so much banter
ing and so joined Gene Buck in a
grave discussion of the theater. I.atc
home and to bed.
Thorley's Famous "House of Flow
ers" is to become a Child's restaur
ant. The house was onre owned by
Russell Sage. When it was sold the
late Charles Thorley paid $441,000
for it and making it over into
a florist shop amassed a huge fortune.
When he died he left the business
to his employes. This makes the third
Child's resaurant to invade the
avenue. There are also two 5 and 10
cent stores on the street.
Mother Bertiiotti's cafe In the vil
lage now bears a prohibition padlock.
It was the haunt of the short-haired
ladles and longhaired gentleman of
Bohemia. There were many velveteen
Jackets and flowing ties. On the little
tables many ephemeral verses wero
polished and many short stories b®>
gun. At the dinner hour the place
was filled with amiable and careless
egotists who suffered the ups and
downs of existence with philosophic
equanimity. Mother Bertilottl was a
buxon. apple cheeked woman with
graying hair. She calmed the dissent
ing hot gospelers as a mother quiets
•o many children. She saw that
many of her patrons were merely
going through a stage of Incubation
for larger efforts, For indeed many
who later achieved in the arts sprout
ed their pin feathers in the atmos
phere of the cafe.
New Yorkers have an Idea that
most people who do not eventually
come here to live are the same people
who never make a atop in love with
out questioning the love lorn editor:
whose literature consists of mail
order pamphlets; who hang dead
snakes on the fence to conjure the
rain god and who saucer their coffee
and eat pie with their knives. But
they overlook entirely the fact that
when these people from Hog Hollow
do come here they are the people
S'ho occupy Mg executive Jobs, live
In the $20,000 a year apartments and
lri\c n well packed garage.
One of the roysterlng blades of the
J.;imbs was Importuned by telephone
to join In an uptown apartment revel
• t 1 o’clock in the morning.
"I’m sorry old man," he said, “hut
I’m here In my room with a case of
neuritis.”
“Bring it along,” said the voice.
"Tills crowd will drink anything.”
An upper Broadway cafe has a
lighted atgn over the door which
reads:
Soft Shelled Grab*
A NO HOBSTEBS.
HANGING.
(Couyrisht.
lng to be said for him; he was a bad
lot. And In the dory he had been
really quite fine. Why did people
have to be like that?
II.
On the following morning. Ktera,
bubbling with high spirits, informed
him that there was to be an entertain
ment in his and Masson's honor in
the evening—a sort of song and
dance affair, as far as Kit could make
out. Btera added that his father
disapproved, which, however, would
probably not prevent him from at
tending. All the morning the village
reeked of food; every cookhouse had
a group of women and children squat
ting about it. Later the whole popu
lation, seemingly, gathered In the
maniaba for some sort of a rehearsal.
Kit could hear them carrying on
from a distance: a queer sort of
rhythmical chanting and 'thumping.
Well, it was nice to be popular.
At five or so Kak called at the
Resldenz and escorted them In state
to an almost flat section of the lagoon
beach. All Nairava was there, and
all Naltuvl, decked with wreaths and
necklaces of flowers. Limbs and bod
ies were lustrous with cocoanut oil;
every one wore an excited and fos
tive air. A great circle was formed,
on the edge of which Kit and Masson
were installed on chairs brought from
the Residenz. The natives squatted
on the sand, Nairava on their right,
Naltuvl on their left. This was to
be a competitive affair, it seemed.
Liquor was circulated In old cocoanut
shells ,a sweet and evidently heady
draught. This was the famous mane
ng, the fermented juice of the cocoa
nut flower; to taste it was to forget
trouble.
The party t.he ruoio .as it was
called, began. Without apparent rea
son, without even obeying any observ
able signal, an old woman in the
front rank set up a sort of wall, heat
ing her two hands on her breast In
rhythm. Others took up the burden,
clapping their hands on thPir per
sons, on the ground, together. Sud
denly a man sprang Into the center
of the circle, gesturing and posing,
singing something that was almost
what the chorus sang, but not finite,
in a close, elusive harmony. Another
joined him; they sang alternately, to
gether, broadening the rhythm, quick
ening It. Presently a woman entered
the ring and sang, at first alone and
slowly, then with growing passion,
the men joining in. The three, fol
lowed precisely by the chorus, pressed
to a climax; the music and the hand
beats grew faster and faster, madden
ingly fast; the whole crowd was at
last yelling, though always musically,
at full voice, making a volcano of
sound in the jeweled sunset. Then,
In the wink of an eyelid, the whole
thing stopped, fell dead.
•'God'." breathed Kit in the silence.
Fhere was no other word of apprecia
tion for the beauty, the 'measured
madness of it. He applauded lustily.
The islanders seemed pleased.
Another dance followed, this time
by Naituvi. Two more succeeded,
and then came an interval for refresh
ment. The circle broke up and a
stream of people came up to Kit offer
ing food; fresh fish baked In leaves;
cocoanut kernel cooked in various
ways: chunks of turtle meat; shell
fish; the leg of a brawny fowl, obvi
ously male; an egg rather the worse
for wear, raw and unbroken; succu
lent pieces of roast pork; the pathetic
form of a little wood dove, sweet and
crisp, and more and ever more mang
Ing. Of this last Kit partook hut
sparingly; it was chiefly a matter
of raising the cup to his lips and
pretending to drink. He was far too
Interested to have any desire to get
drunk. With Masson quite other
wise; he drank deep and often, and
had soon pushed his chair away and
sprawled on the sand. Kit presently
did the same, though for a different
reason.
The sun set In dove gray and fire,
tnd torches of dry oiled palm fronds
were lit and held outside the rrowd by
boys. A bonfire was kindled on the
lee side of the circle. Presently the
people returned to their seats, their
:yes and teeth and flowers gleaming
•ichlyin the ruddy light. Above them,
beyond infection from firelight, the
stars shot their virginal white rays.
Down the lagoon, south west ward, the
Cross and the twin flames of the Cen
taur burst out and quickly fell. Hand
ward, over the black palms, the moon
rose and rinsed the lagoon in silver.
And the ruoio began again.
It was obvious to Kit that this was
no mere war and love dance of sav
ages; it was an art, highly developed
and obeying certain dclinlte canons.
The most extraordinary thing about
It was that it attained so much rich
ness and variety by the sole use of
the voice and hands; no Instruments
were used. It seemed to stand about
midway between opera and ballet in
character. Rhythm was the domi
nant factor, harmony being present
but subordinate. The communal
sense of time and tune was astound
ing. Never did a hand miss a heat
by the fraction of a second; never did
a voice depart from the exact pitch;
never did either hand or voice mar
the bewildering suddenness of the
bnish.
There was one tale enacted of two
heroes, represented by Kakaiwla and
another man. They were twins, and
they excelled all other men in sport
and war. equally. One saw them
spearing fish, fighting sharks, slaugh
tering enemies. Presently the Inevi
table happened: they quarreled over
a woman. The tribe gathered to see
them fight for her in a duel which
the aged parents strove In vain to
avert. The two embraced, kissed,
then parted and fought. The popti
lace, partial to neither, watched them,
fascinated, chanting a measure mar
velously suggestive both of admira
tion and grief. When at last they
both fell, killed by the blow that
only the other could give, the chorus
went mad with despair, and the bride
hurled herself on their Interlocked
bodies in suicidal frenzy. When Kak
returned to his place his face was
streaming with tears.
After a number of alternating act
the two sides of the atoll abandoned
their competitive efforts and joined
together. Suddenly Kit's heart
bounded; he realized that he was see
ing enacted the story of his own land
fail on that island.
"Two men alone In a little boat.
Two men alone In a little boat!"
chanted the chorus, as two swarthy
natives squatting In the middle por
trayed their Idea of the sensations
of shipwreck, hunger and thirst. I>ays
pass no land, no sail. They resign
themselves to death: they commend
their souls to the great spirit of t i«
deep. And then—li nd! And »" on)
their landing, their welcome, food !‘d
drink and entertainment given then*
by the friendly |s-np|e. At love NucJ
and Mattonl!" shouted the enthusius.
tic hosts. "I,ong may they live witlj
ua, In peace and brotherhood!"
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)_
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(Copyright 1924)
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'To Rea Cm VttoM
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The Tail, end op THE MAMrAOTn
Torch light parade the
FINAL RALLV OF Th<? campaign
C*p7M|tkl. 1924 N » Im
ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
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